


misery loves company

by tsunderestorm



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Merlin and Arthur share a moment of grief after the events on the Isle of the Blessed.





	

Lancelot wasn’t wearing his cloak when the tear in the veil swallowed him up, a hungry beast closing its jaw. He does not remember that small detail at first, recalls clearly only the Calyx throwing Gwaine to the ground and Arthur falling shortly after, weak to Merlin’s power. He remembers Lancelot walking into nothingness, arms spread as if to welcome an old friend. After that he remembers his own scream, hoarse and earth-shattering, remembers the altar cleaving in two.

 _Catatonic_ , Arthur says when Merlin’s thoughts are his own again. _You were nearly catatonic_ , Merlin, _what the hell happened?_ Merlin has no answer, only a repetition of the obvious. Lancelot is dead. Dead and gone; his smile and his dark, sincere eyes devoured by the darkness. Nothing left, not his boots, his breeches. It’s as if he never existed, save for in their hearts. Only his cloak remains, found with his horse, carefully folded scarlet resting on the saddle.

Arthur wants to stand watch when they stop to make camp in the night, and no one objects. Merlin tries to sleep and his thoughts are haunted; he can’t distinguish reality and memories from dreams.

“He was a good knight.” Arthur says when everyone is deep asleep. To the night sky, the dying embers. To Merlin, to no one in particular. To whatever gods may be listening, his voice sharpening to an edge. The unfairness of it. “He was a good knight, and a good man, and – “

Arthur’s sword that he’s been sharpening for an hour, honing the blade, makes a harmonic ringing when he slams it into the ground and buries his face in his hands. Merlin hears it before he sees it, back to the fire, face in his hands. He isn’t asleep either. Blinking to clear his vision at least enough to tell up from down, he stands up on wobbling legs, like a newborn, and wraps Lancelot’s cloak tighter around him. There’s a chill in the air, colder even than the Dorocha, a chill that’s settled over his soul and his limbs ache with it. Gently, he sits down beside Arthur and hugs his knees to his chest, curling up, curling in towards him. Hesitant, slow. Unsure if Arthur will welcome the touch or recoil from it.

Arthur’s shoulders are shaking with barely repressed hitching sobs. “He was a good man, god- _goddamn_ it – “ he chokes out. “It was supposed to be me.”

Merlin’s heart aches, guilty and heavy. Threatening to fall right out of his chest, a lead weight. Arthur’s wrong, it was supposed to be him. Him, so Arthur could be the king he was destined to. Him, so Lancelot could serve right by his side, his best and brightest knight. The first one he chose for himself as king, not chosen for him by Camelot. Protecting him with his life, noble and true.

Merlin uncurls his shaking hands from where they’re fisted at the collar of the cloak and softly, soundlessly links one with Arthur’s. The cloak is still wrapped in his palm and Arthur scrambles at it the same way he does, grips it between his fingers so it can’t fall away.

 _Shhh,_ Merlin soothes as Arthur squeezes his hand so hard Merlin fears it’ll fracture. He knows he should be strong, a pillar as supportive as the cornerstones that form Camelot, but the tears slipping down Arthur’s cheeks leaving clean streaks in the dirt and grime are perfect mirrors of his own.

“I know you loved him,” Merlin says, quietly. Like a secret, though pointless – who could know Lancelot and not love him? He murmurs into Arthur’s hair, sweaty and stringy, ghosts his lips over his temple, his cheek, wet with tears. “I did, too.”


End file.
